My Soul Cries
by twinklerbell23
Summary: In the midst of a revival for a new Lord, Draco finds himself oblivious and helpless from the decisions he makes. Is Hermione's genius enough to save him from the terror of the depths of hell? Or maybe, a force even greater than knowledge?


Hermione rushed home, kicking off her stilettos in the foyer and throwing her handbag haphazardly at the maid who had scrambled to greet her.

"Sadie! Call Bonnie, quick! I have 10 minutes before I need to meet Draco for dinner – she'll have to do my hair and makeup quick," Hermione was undressing as she was walking up to her dressing room. Tossing her clothes on the floor, she ran up the stairs and whipped out the first dress she saw – an emerald green and black slinky with cool silk and matching ribbons for her hair. After putting on a green thong and matching bra, she quickly donned on the dress and looked for matching heels. Bonnie was at her vanity when Hermione came out.

"Why were you so late, Hermione? You're always so punctual," Bonnie tsked disapprovingly. "I can't apply your makeup in five minutes and curl your hair."

Hermione was annoyed.

"You silly woman, are you a witch or not? It's not like it takes hours to mutter a spell or two," she snapped. But then seeing the hurt look on Bonnie's face, she immediately felt guilty. "Look, Bonnie, I'm so sorry. I'm just really on edge. You know Draco hates it when people are late, and work was stressful and mind-boggling … look, I just want neutral colors and something to make my hair a little bouncier and shinier, all right?"

☼

Draco gritted his teeth together, and impatiently drummed his fingers on the starch white linen cloth. This was unusual. Hermione always waited for him, not the other way around. He sighed, and signaled the waiter to bring him more champagne. He wanted to get roaring drunk tonight and forget about Pansy and his afternoon.

She had threatened him, dared to blackmail him. That little conniving bitch had no idea what she was getting into.

Mmm, he missed Hermione, missed her loving gestures, her sweet, beautiful face, missed the way her slim body reacted to his, the way she always waited up for him, how she made him soup when he was sick... he didn't deserve her. He knew he was living a fucked up life, and Hermione didn't need a damn bastard like he was. He just never knew what to say to her – he was incapable of romantic gestures. He was doubtful of their relationship, but he knew he loved her. Or, at least, he loved her as much as he knew how.

Was he capable of loving? Hermione was perfect, and she obviously loved him beyond reason. Her whole life revolved around making him happy, and she did. If he did fall in love with anybody, it would be her. How he wanted to love her – and he probably did – but really, what was love? Was it that tingly feeling every time he saw her walk through the door? Or the way she pleasured him when they made love? Or the way he would worry about her when she was depressed? Or when he was insanely jealous when other men flirted with her?

"It's all Father's fault," he muttered under his breath. He felt so guilty, and he wanted to please her, pay her back for all the goodness she had given him. She was so kind, so loving, so beautiful and pure. Everyone loved her and adored her insanely.

Draco was not raised in a loving family. Dinners were aloof, cold, ceremonial, and strained. Draco knew his Father continually abused Mother – but what could he do about it? He learned to block it all out, to not respond, to grow indifferent to others' pain. That was the only way to protect yourself from getting hurt. But it didn't work – it didn't dull the pain that he felt when Mother died, when she died at the hands of her husband.

There was no love, no gratitude, no encouraging words. When he returned home he would always receive the "You worthless bastard – you can't even beat a damn mudblood whore!" or the "Don't touch me. You've been contaminated by Dumbledore and his foul odor."

"I resolve to never be like him," Draco declared to himself. "Here's to you, _dear_ Father," he raised his glass, "and your disgusting filthy life."

★

She came running in, face flushed. The waiter, on the lookout for her, noticed her immediately, and motioned for her to follow him. He led her to the back of Palais De Scintillement, a quaint French parlor that Draco adored, where she was led through an enchanted waterfall with exotic and charmed flowers. Around the corner, she spotted Draco, pressed, clean, and irritated, drain his glass. "Merci, monsieur," she told the curious waiter in her halting French. That, and "veuillez me montrer la salle de bains" was the extent of her vocabulary (and, of course "embrassez-moi").

She sat down, and Draco absentmindedly dismissed the waiter. When the waiter vanished almost immediately, Draco looked at the wife he hadn't seen in three weeks, and said,

"How was Paris without me?"

Hermione raised a curious eyebrow.

"Jealous?" She smirked. Living with such an acclaimed bad boy had taught her much more than she imagined. That was what she and Harry had fought about the other day.

‡

"_You're getting to be more like that scoundrel every day, Hermione," he accused her, "I always told you, you'd be better off without him. If you want, I'll ma – " _

"_Stop. Just stop it, for heaven's sake. Harry, I would have thought twelve years of friendship counted with you, but apparently, it doesn't. You're just like every normal bloke, like Ron. He was so jealous and narrow-minded and just as prejudiced as he accused Draco of being that he couldn't see how unreasonable he was! He had no right t-to, to judge me like that! He treated Draco as if – as if he was contaminated with some horrible disease, he had … you knew how I tried, and I never wanted my relationship with Draco to separate any of us, but, but, if I must, I must," Hermione stated resolutely, obviously shaken and teary-eyed. Yet, she was firm._

"_That's how you feel?" Harry asked incredulously. _

"_Yes."_

"_If you had to choose, you'd pick Malfoy?"_

_A slight pause. _

"_Y-yes."_

"_Then don't come back to us in five years begging to forgive you. Because, trust me, it's over," Harry spat angrily._

_He stormed out. Then, just as Hermione was about to break down, he turned around and said sadly, "You know, it doesn't have to be like this. We can help you."_

_Hermione pulled herself together. Then with a scowl fixed on her face, she replied with no emotion._

"_I don't need your help. Or your pity."_

‡

"What do I need to be jealous for? I've had gorgeous bodies in my bed since you've been gone," Draco playfully joked.

Hermione shook her head.

"In your dreams, maybe. Everyone's too scared of me to dare to touch you."

As far as she was concerned, Draco hadn't cheated on her. When she got insecure, she developed an inferiority complex, and strongly suspected something. Pansy Parkinson, ex-slut of Hogwarts, was now Draco's secretary (and there were rumors of her other occupations, as well).

Harry was wrong. She was still old-fashioned, intensely romantic, and utterly loyal. Draco had maybe changed her outward behavior, but her core, her values and beliefs, had never wavered or altered under her influence to "higher society."

She sighed. Never in her life had she expected Harry to behave like he did. Deep down, way deep down, she was mourning the loss of a lover.

☼

A single candle was burning. The woman in the large bed shivered subconsciously. Even though she was sleeping, in the prison of her dreams, she sensed danger. And this uneasy feeling made her cling tighter to the man that was her life.

A gust of wind blew through the closed windows. The candle went out.

A tall man stood in the corner, ragged and smelly from years of imprisonment. His face was a brownish hue, and his teeth yellow and decayed. The only part of Lucius Malfoy that remained unchanged were his cold eyes full of malice which betrayed his raw lust for power. Behind him, a small, wiry man stepped out of the shadows. His face was concealed, and he was clothed in billowing black robes.

He had red eyes.

Draco sensed something, and tried to turn over on his side. Hermione clung harder to him, which woke him up. He had a peculiar feeling, a feeling that someone, or something, was in the room with him. Sitting up, he saw them. And his blood chilled. Immediately, he silently cast a sleeping charm on Hermione.

Draco tried to regain his composure. His father had taught him this much – a face of imperturbability was an effective mask against the unknown. The games these people played were psychological in essence; without the fear they instilled in their victims, the power they wielded would not be as dominating or immense.

Inside though, he was just like a frightened child afraid of the dark.

"Hello, son."

Draco was hit with a feeling of surrender, as if he just gave up. His heart was exhausted, tired, and broken. He felt like he was willing to do anything so long as if he could die. His soul was weary, weary, loaded and cumbersome, collapsed, and ready to follow.

The small man smiled. He swished his wand. The darkness closed in.

A murky fog surrounded Draco. He could not see, could not hear except the whispered words of a concealed woman: _below, Draco_.

_Below, below. Draco, below. _

Panic seized him. The fog became denser.

_Below. Below. _

The fog thinned.

"What do you want?" Draco managed to get out, visibly shaken.

"You."

The fog became intense. He had no strength, some strange kind of aura had depleted it, broken it up.

_Hell no_, he had thought.

Instead, he said, "I am yours."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

This story was once called "I CAN'T STOP YOU." I felt that the title was irrelevant to the story so I changed it. It still has the same story ID number.

I know it's a short chapter, and for many of you, it's review. I have changed my plot! It's going to be awesome, I totally love it. What happened before (in the other copies) is erased – ERASE IT!

I am in need of a beta, delta, whatever they're called. If you are good at editing, know the HP books by heart, love HDr, and have some free time, please EMAIL me or write me a REVIEW with your email and I will get back to you! Plus, you get to know what happens before everyone else does.

I don't know how often I'm going to update. I'm taking a lot of AP classes and am really busy with clubs and such. So I suggest putting me on your story/author alerts – I think that's the best way (if you like the story, that is).

PLEASE leave suggestions. I love reader input. Tell me what I did wrong, what you want to see, anything!

and, of course – **REVIEW! **Like, honestly, I know it's a drag, but it really lets me know what you liked and how I can improve. It helps a lot! Thanks for reading!


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